XV.
Childhood
Happy, happy, irretrievable period of childhood! How can one help loving and cherishing its memories? These memories refresh and elevate my soul and serve me as a source of my best enjoyments.
I remember how, having frisked about until tired, I sat at the tea table in my high chair. It was late. I had long ago drunk my cup of milk and sugar; sleep closed my eyes, but I did not budge from the place, and remained there and listened. How could I help listening ? Mamma was speaking to somebody, and the sounds of her voice were so sweet and so charming. Those sounds alone spoke so eloquently to my heart! With eyes dimmed by sleepiness I looked fixedly at her face, and suddenly she grew so small, so very small, — her face was not larger than a button, but I saw it just as plainly. I saw her looking at me and smiling. I liked to see her so tiny. I blinked my eyes even more, and she became not larger than those little men one sees in the pupil of the eye. I moved, and the whole charm was broken. I squinted, turned around, and in every manner possible tried to renew it, — it was all in vain.
I rose, scampered away, and comfortably lodged myself in an armchair.
"You will fall asleep again, Nikólenka!" said mamma: "you had better go up-stairs."
"I do not want to sleep, mamma," I answered her, and
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